You're Not Alone
by jilted colours
Summary: Clarissa Wilde is a brand new child to Wool's Orphanage. The kind nine year old wouldn't hurt a soul, not even one that's destined to turn to stone. One present to a lonely boy just might affect him, if only a little. This boy happened to be Tom Riddle.


**So, this is my first story on this site and in order to celebrate both New Year's Eve and New Year's Day in addition to the most important day on my calendar—Tom Riddle's birthday—I figured I'd put this little cutesy thing on here and see what kind of reception I get. I know, I just missed it (by a few minutes because my computer was being stupid!) , but at least I posted it! Anyways, I hope you like it.**

**Disclaimer:**** J.K. Rowling owns anything vaguely recognizable in this story unless otherwise stated. I own the plot and everything else.**

**

* * *

**

**You're Not Alone**

To say that Wool's Orphanage was an intimidating place was an understatement. It was a cold, dreary place where the happiness seemed to be sucked out of the children, if it was there in the first place. It smothered the joy of children into smithereens, that is, unless you're lucky. On one end of the spectrum, there's a person who was firmly been deemed an outcast by nature. This person simply didn't fit in with the rest of them; they were always cloaked by a thin, invisible fabric called danger, unemotional eyes that haunted the very soul a person had, and the features of an odd kid on the path to hell with no return.

This end of the spectrum at Wool's Orphanage was taken by none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle, the boy with a particularly disturbing and unknown past. On the other end of the spectrum, there was the type of person that was so innocent, so friendly, that their naïvety was easy to get used to and even quite enjoyable to see. They fought through the melancholy of the orphanage and managed to stay kind and sweet, always finding that 'silver lining' that people always talked about. This end of the spectrum was occupied by Clarissa Marcelline Wilde. The two might as well be living on two different sides of the world, because that was how different they were.

It all started on January 28th, 1936, where the newest member of the orphanage was admitted. Clarissa Wilde, only at eight years old, going onto nine on February 19th, which would also be her first birthday at the orphanage. Her past life was tragic but she managed to make the most of it, becoming a bright, optimistic girl. She was intelligent, but she was also too naïve to believe. She had too much faith in the world, thinking that everything would fall into place eventually, with just a little work. Many scoffed at this proposition, but they all liked her nevertheless, thinking that her optimism was quite endearing, even if she did turn out to be wrong at the end. She pranced around with a smile on her face and a glint in her eye, enjoying her childhood while she still had it.

Fast forward eleven months over to December 1936. It was her first time spending the holidays at the orphanage, but Clarissa made sure to spread the holiday cheer enough for everyone to go around twice. She was well-liked by her peers, often befriending whoever she could until she'd made friends with virtually everyone in the orphanage. There was one that was set apart from the others that she'd noticed, one she never spoke to. Tom Riddle was his name and as far as she was concerned, the other children tormented him as much as they could, although somehow karma seemed to strike back, and rather quickly as well. She may have been a credulous girl, not fully experiencing the full horrors of the world, (although she'd experienced enough) but that didn't mean she wasn't intelligent. Quite the opposite, really; she was rather smart for her age, just a bit too trusting.

Clarissa noticed how Tom was isolated from the others, primarily because they found him 'odd', 'weird', 'strange', and even some would go so far as to say 'intimidating', 'horrific', 'absolutely insane', 'off of his rocker', and the ever-popular 'asylum-worthy sociopath'. However, she noted that it wasn't all them; he never made an effort to include himself in their doings, often sitting alone, playing alone, walking alone—he was always alone. It puzzled her, mysteriously enough, and her sympathetic self had heartstrings tugged so much it nearly hurt whenever she saw him by himself. The kids would tease him while she was around and playing with them, yet she stayed silent, never chiming in, though never making the effort to stop it. For a young girl her age, she was overwhelmed with an unbelievably high amount of guilt for watching as it happened.

Then came December 25th, a.k.a., Christmas Day. The kids were unwrapping their presents, and although they weren't fancy, they were enough. Tom, like always, expected nothing good—in fact, he didn't expect anything at all—so imagine his surprise when he found a gift addressed to him, "Tom Riddle" labeled right on the front in bold, black ink for everyone to see. The kids were all beyond shocked, some more than others. Although no one could top the flabbergasted feeling that Tom Riddle had. The first thing about the gift that caught his eye was a little letter. Neatly unfolding the note, his eyes swept over the neat printing of the sender.

_Dear Tom,_

_I know we've never talked and that this might be surprising but I thought you could use a gift for Christmas. Everyone deserves one, so I thought I'd give you one too. It's not much, but I do hope you like it. If you don't like it, that's okay, at least I tried. I'm sorry I haven't spoken to you before, but I've never gotten the chance. You're always alone and I wonder if you're doing something important, so I don't bother. I don't want to bug you. Really, I want to get to know you. You seem like you need someone to talk to and I'd like to be that person._

_Sincerely,_

_Your friend_

No name, nothing—just 'your friend' and that was it. Tom wasn't sure what to think of it exactly, so he folded the note up again and picked up the small box and opened it. Inside, there was a small pendant, one that looked much too expensive to be given to himas a Christmas present. It was silver with green encrusted on it, formed in no particular shape. Those who passed by Tom were aghast, gaping as they saw what kind of gift. Even Mrs. Cole, the owner and the older woman that ran the orphanage couldn't help but be surprised. Although it was a kind gesture, many would say it was a bit _too _kind, and the fact that there was no name made it that much more mysterious.

Six days later, it was December 31st, the last day of 1936, New Year's Eve, and the young, introverted Tom Riddle's birthday. He doubted any of them cared about the fact that it was his birthday, especially since he barely cared himself. Oddly enough, snow began to fall and by midday, it blanketed roughly all of London. The kids were given the option to go outside and play in the snow. Most of them chose to go outside, though Tom seemed to be the only one that didn't. He retreated to room 27—the room he lived in—only to spot another letter, this time placed on his bed. It was peculiar indeed, but he shut the door behind him and opened the letter. Judging by the handwriting and a quick skim of the style of the letter, it looked as if it was from the same mystery person who had given him his gift. As it turned out, he didn't want anyone to steal the pendant so he kept it with him at all times, never letting it out of his sight. He read the letter quickly, almost incredulously when he read the content.

_Dear Tom,_

_It's me again, the one who sent you the pendant. I hope you liked it, but if not, that's fine, like I told you before. I wanted to tell you Happy New Year's, but more than anything, Happy Birthday! You're ten now and I want to give you something. It's a birthday present, but this time I want to give it to you face-to-face. Meet me in the main room at four o'clock, right by the left corner of the room. I'll see you there, hopefully._

_Sincerely,_

_Your friend_

Once again, there was no name, but they had told him to meet them and he was curious to see who this person was. He looked up at the tiny clock in his room and noticed that it was three fifty seven, meaning he had three minutes to meet the person. Folding the note over again, he set it back down on his bedside table. He was perplexed by the person, but he didn't want to miss out on his chance of meeting them. Tom found that he was still hungry, having been served a meager breakfast earlier in the day and a less-than-extraordinary lunch as well, but he chose not to pay any mind to his hunger. He was focused more on getting to the main room as quick as he could, and so he dashed out of the room, throwing the door behind him. He was thankful that everyone else was outside playing in the snow; it would make things a whole lot less awkward and more private.

Clarissa was about to go outside with the rest of the children at the orphanage, but instead, she went to the bathroom, deciding she would need to get done in there first in addition to one more little thing before going out there. And so, she hightailed herself to the bathroom. When she finished, she stopped by her room to grab something. Silently, the caramel haired girl glided into the main room, though her eyes weren't on the door to the outside world. No, they were on the pale, jet-black haired boy with his back turned to her. Smiling softly, she began treading into the room.

"Tom!" she called, watching as he whirled around to look at her.

Tom was surprised to find that it was Clarissa, the newest person to enter the orphanage, to be the one in the room. However, he realized that he shouldn't have been shocked that it was the peach-colored girl was the sender. She'd always been kind and accepting, but he hadn't expected _this _from her. She smiled brightly, her hands behind her back.

"Happy birthday!" she greeted, pulling her hands out from behind her. "Here," she told him, thrusting the gift into his hands. "It's a diary. I know that might sound a bit odd, but you seem like you need someone to talk to a lot, so I got it for you. If you don't want to talk, you can write in it. I was also the one who gave you the Christmas present; I hope you liked that, too. Anyways, I hope you're having a good birthday."

Tom's dark orbs stared at Clarissa's blue-green ones with perplexity. She just grinned at him, taking his silence as a cue to continue talking. "I really do want to be friends with you, Tom. Do you want to go outside with me? We can talk in the snow and everything."

Finding his voice, Tom spoke back to her. "No, I'd rather stay in here."

"Would you mind if I joined you?" Clarissa asked him with a certain hopefulness he wasn't sure what to make of at first.

Tom smiled at her, the sort of genuine smile that he hadn't known he was capable of. Clarissa Wilde had been the first one to make Tom Riddle smile that way. "Sure." She took his hand and led him to the couch, not at all expecting the warmth radiating off of it, just as he hadn't expected her hands to be so warm, or that gesture for that matter, but he didn't pull his hand away. It was a symbol of friendship, a friendship he hadn't known he would ever acquire, especially not from a girl like her.

Tom and Clarissa sat down in the room and for a while, they sat there in a comfortable silence before she initiated conversation. They were talking for minutes about small, unimportant stuff until those minutes turned into one hour, and then two hours. All of it was trivial conversation, nothing but to get to know each other. He still wasn't any more friendly than before and she wasn't any less friendly, but they found a certain bond that even if they weren't the greatest of friends, they still got along well enough.

Tom Riddle's tenth birthday was his first and only birthday he found memorable, thanks to Clarissa Wilde.

* * *

**So this was really fluffy and whatnot. I actually liked it, but I'm probably going to add more. I think I might turn it into a story, actually.**

**Read and review?**


End file.
